


Letters to Santa

by sapphirestark



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Gen, Humor, Identity Reveal, Irondad, Not Captain America: Civil War (Movie) Compliant, Precious Peter Parker, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark is Good With Kids, basically a Christmas AU of how tony and peter meet, i swear it's just cute, peter accidentally reveals his identity in a letter to santa that tony ends up with, spiderson, super brief mention of grief
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-21
Updated: 2019-12-21
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:55:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21878506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sapphirestark/pseuds/sapphirestark
Summary: “There is a red and gold waffle iron that produces waffles in the shape of your helmet, sir. Would that be what you’re looking for?” Friday asked helpfully.Tony stared at her nearest camera in incredulity. “Are you serious?”“Quite, sir. It's called Waffle Iron Man.”
Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Comments: 55
Kudos: 829





	Letters to Santa

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome back! This is just a heap of fluff for Christmas. Enjoy!

"There’s mail for you, boss.” 

Tony Stark looked up from his holotable, clearly irritated by the interruption. The weeks before Christmas were still filled with memories and grief for him. It’d been 28 years since the death of his parents, and while it had gotten easier over time, it never fully went away. 

“Who still sends letters these days, Fri?”

“Children do, boss. You generously volunteered to contribute to the annual Christmas Wish List event.” Millions of kids in the US send letters to Santa every year; some billionaires, companies, and foundations had volunteered to fulfill some of their wishes, mostly from those in poor neighbourhoods whose parents likely wouldn’t be able to afford what their kids wished for. Tony had immediately asked to contribute as soon as he heard of its establishment a couple of months ago. 

“Yeah, yeah, a good cause. Noble, and all that. But I didn’t think I would personally play Santa and read all those letters. How many are there, anyway?” 

“Stark Industries has taken over several thousand.” 

“You want me to read _several thousand_ letters?” Even Friday had to realise that was too much, distraction or not.

“No, Sir.” Friday sounded impatient. “I arranged for special cases to be sent to you personally. I thought you might enjoy them.” 

“Special cases?” He had to admit, his interest was piqued. 

“As determined by Santa’s helpers - the team of volunteers who read the children’s letters and respond to them. They’ve been delivered to the living room.” 

“You’re really determined to not let me get work done today, aren’t you?” Tony rolled his eyes, but flicked the holograms away anyway. “Turn off the lights, then. Let’s get into the Christmas spirit.” 

An hour later, Tony was sitting on his living room carpet, which was most likely too expensive to be sat on. He’d started his endeavour on the couch but had soon found that he needed more space – Friday had had over three hundred letters sent up to him in a completely old-fashioned brown postbag that could’ve been Santa Clause’s own. The floor was full of envelopes, cards, and paper, all covered in the most careful and legible handwriting the kids could manage – after all, a letter to Santa was important. And for almost every letter a kid had sent, there was a corresponding drawing or intricate craft project depicting Iron Man. 

Tony chuckled when he opened another letter and found a page with lots of red and gold beads glued to it, vaguely in the shape of a person. 

“Well –“, he turned it over to look for a name, “Melissa, age 4, surely is talented.” He smiled as he read her letter (this time perfectly legible, as her mum must have written it). “She says my suit looks like a Christmas bauble.” 

“Red and gold were indeed festive choices, boss.” Friday had silently dimmed the lights and turned on the Christmas tree lights instead. 

“Are there any Iron Man Christmas ornaments, Fri?” Melissa was wishing for new crayons, and for waffles. He wasn’t too sure what to make of that, but he agreed that waffles were universally desirable for basically everyone. 

“Several, boss.” 

Tony snorted. “Make sure Melissa gets one of those. And her crayons. And a new waffle iron. Not to be used without supervision, of course.” 

“There is a red and gold waffle iron that produces waffles in the shape of your helmet, sir. Would that be what you’re looking for?” Friday asked helpfully. 

Tony stared at her nearest camera in incredulity. “Are you serious?” 

“Quite, sir. It’s called Waffle Iron Man.” 

“Now, there’s an idea for a new branding.” Tony shook his head in disbelief but laughed. “No, just make it a regular one. After all, her mum will be the one who has to use it.” 

“Certainly, sir.” 

Tony placed Melissa’s letter on the ever-growing pile of opened letters to his right, careful not to lose any beads. 

As he was turning to pick up the next letter, Friday interrupted him. “Sir, this next letter was pointed out to me as especially intriguing.” 

“Yeah?” Tony frowned and picked up the letter. It was addressed to Santa Clause, as all the others, but not by a child – it was too legible for that, and had too much character – and certainly also not by a parent, as parents would try to either mimic children’s writing or use the best cursive they could manage. This was a scrawly mix between cursive and block letters, written in ballpoint pen – just neat enough to be legible, just messy enough for it to show character. It had been addressed to Mr. Santa Clause, with the “Mr.” crossed out afterwards. 

Tony pulled out a page that was clearly ripped out of a school notebook. 

He frowned. “ _‘Dear Santa, my name is Peter, I’m 15 years old, and I’m from Queens. I’m babysitting for my neighbours and Eliza, their daughter, insists that I have to write a letter to you because otherwise I won’t get any presents on Christmas.’_ ” A teenager? Tony shook his head. It was nice of this Peter to indulge little Eliza, though. As he read on, he found himself smiling. “Friday, listen to this: _‘She’s four, so she can’t read what I’m writing, but she insists on dropping our letters off at the mailbox together, so I have to send this. I’m sorry to waste your time.’_ Eliza sure has her babysitter wrapped around her finger, huh?” Tony chuckled and was about to put the paper back into the envelope when the next sentence caught his eye. 

_I guess this Christmas I’m wishing for less crime in the city, or at least less dangerous crime. And for people to be happy and healthy. – Okay, Eliza isn’t happy with wishes that can’t be unwrapped, so I’m also wishing for the new Star Wars Lego set. My best friend would love that, too._

“Fri, what teenager wishes for less dangerous crime? Even if it’s a fake Santa letter? I mean -"

“That is indeed odd, sir. But I think you should look at the back of the page.” 

Tony turned the paper over while Friday continued.

“The volunteers are mostly from Stark Industries, a good mix of interns and regular workers from all departments who have time to spare to read some letters and respond to them. Some of them work in labs and R&D. Not even they could make sense of it.”

Tony skimmed over the page, evening out the edges which were crumpled from being hastily ripped out of a notebook. 

“This is very advanced”, he mumbled, trying to connect the equations. “What grade are 15-year-olds in, Fri?” 

“Freshman, maybe Sophomore. None of the methods used on that page are being taught in high school.” 

Tony nodded absently. What had this kid been trying to achieve? Even if he’d coded the variables (and what reason would he have for that?) – it was an odd mix of chemistry and physics. Maybe material science? A new kind of packaging? In any case, the maths was flawless. It could be a stabilizer, or a new kind of adhesive – 

Tony suddenly sat up straight. “Less crime, was it?” 

“I believe so, sir.” 

Tony looked around for the envelope. Peter Parker, 15th Street, Queens, NYC. He was 98% sure his hunch was right. 

“Friday?” If this was really him - this kid needed support. He’d seen the onesie on the news and figured it was a wannabe with a lot of luck, but he’d judged to soon. This was a kid with talent, a good heart, and no resources. And even if the evidence was all circumstantial and this kid really wasn’t a superhero, he certainly was way beyond high school material in science.

“Sir?” 

“Order the latest Star Wars Lego set.” 

“Pardon, sir?” 

“And draw up internship papers. I think I found someone who’s in need of a proper lab.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you liked it! I wish you all happy holidays <3 Leave a comment if you'd like! :)


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